


To Fall in Love

by HuaFeiHua



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship, a couple allusions to greek mythology, angst-ish??, but not many, kind of??, lots of internal struggling, there are more characters than i have tagged but they're really minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuaFeiHua/pseuds/HuaFeiHua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though she is engaged to the heir of the estate she lives on, Mikasa slowly falls in love with another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fall in Love

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!! this is my first time posting to ao3. I usually post to ff.net, so this is going to be i guess a test? i'm trying. yes. thank. the author's note at the end is just what i wrote on ff.net so like. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy~

_Far outside the realm of man, in the far outskirts of heaven, in a grey, misty room, there were three sisters, the fates. Everywhere at once, yet always in their room. Seeing everything on earth, listening to every word we say, able to focus on every individual at the same time on the planet, but still seeing the bigger picture and creating what is still to come. Carrying out hundreds of thousands of conversations with each other all at the same time._

_Together, they wove and knotted the tapestry of life. Rich in color, the delicate threads of every shade and hue were tied from heart to heart, adding just a tiny portion to the intricate web that they could never hope to understand._

~***~

Mikasa Ackerman had always known she wouldn't choose who she married, but she often dreamed of a handsome knight like her father, who would treat her not only kindly, but with a little bit of respect as well. The last part was stretching it a little, women were little more than possessions that cared for any children borne to the man, but she could always hope.

She met her betrothed when she was thirteen; he was a tall, young lad of the age of fourteen by the name of Jean Kirstein. His dishwater blond hair had an undercut, and his long face vaguely resembled that of a horse. She wouldn't have minded that at all; he was the son of a wealthy lord, and marrying into his family would be a huge jump in status. However, it was all ruined for her by his cocky and arrogant personality. The way he boasted about his lifestyle and the fine venison he hunted, and the way he carried himself with an overwhelmingly disgusting swagger all absolutely repulsed her.

"I'm not marrying him," she boldly told her father the night after they met.

He regarded her dangerously, and the look in his eye was brimming with a ferocity that Mikasa had never seen on him in her life.

"Mikasa. We cannot risk losing our family lineage to _you_ deciding to never marry," he began.

"I never said I would never marry _anyone_ , just not Jean," she interjected, but her father continued over her.

"Besides, he is the son of Lord Kirstein. He's wealthy and well-off; it's a golden opportunity to heighten yourself in society. Your ancestors would be _proud_ to see you go from near-commoner to noblewoman."

Mikasa looked desperately at her mother, who also gave her a disapproving look. "Mikasa, you're going to have to learn to be obedient someday."

Mr. Ackerman nodded in agreement, then looked over at his wife. For a few terrifying seconds, Mikasa had no idea what they were talking about as they argued with their facial expressions.

Slowly, her father turned back to face Mikasa, and stood at his full height. "We will make arrangements for you to live with the Kirsteins as their maid."

" _What?_ " she cried, eyes widening.

"It will teach you to be obedient, and it will get you used to Jean."

"No," Mikasa stubbornly told him. "I _refuse_ to do that. Jean may be wealthy, but I could _never_ love him," she said with venom in her tone.

She felt a sudden sting on her cheek and tears welling up in her eyes. Her father had slapped her. A common practice for disciplining children of her age; she was far too old to be spanked.

"Mikasa, we're doing what's best for you. We're not even asking you to _like_ Jean, just tolerate him. It will all make sense someday when you're living comfortably in the midst of crisis while those of knight status or commoners grovel in the dirt," her mother gently said.

"Fine," she huffed. "I will go, then. It's not like I have any _real_ choice in the matter anyway."

Her mother sadly smiled at her as she turned heel and stalked out of the room to the outside, where she stared up at the stars.

She sighed and sat down, looking at constellations she'd known since she was a young child.

She picked at the grass in front of her. "Blasted parents. I can't believe they're going to make me _marry_ that asshat. I would have been perfectly content with marrying a squire, but _nooo_ , I had to catch the attention of the _heir_ ," she muttered to herself, then sighed.

"I wonder what love feels like," she said aloud, then mentally slapped herself. "What am I saying? It's an honor to marry into a higher status. I should be glad for this opportunity."

She stared up into infinity again, doubting her own words. Well, at least the stars would always be there for her...

~***~

_All the while, the nimble fingers of the fates twisted, wove, and revised the various rainbow-hued strings that surrounded the hearts of two adolescents, taking great care to write a destiny far different than anyone could have ever anticipated._

~***~

The carriage bumped and rattled as it went along the dirt road. Mikasa felt nauseous and claustrophobic in the cramped interior. She traveled alone, with only the clothes on her back to take with her. She had no worldly possessions of her own to bring, anyway.

Finally, the coach slowed to a stop, and the tiny door on the side opened up. "We've arrived, Miss," a tall boy with freckles politely told her.

Mikasa said nothing, choosing instead to simply step out onto the grounds of what would be her new home.

"I hear you're the new maid," the boy shyly continued. "Awful nice of the masters to go and fetch you in the carriage and everything. My name's Marco, by the way. I'm an escort."

She shot him a sidelong glance. " _I'm_ to marry the young master in a few years. I was simply sent as a maid in order to… ' _learn my place_ ,' as one could put it."

Marco's eyes widened, and his face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Miss! I had no idea; I will treat you with the respect you deserve next time," he hurriedly said.

Mikasa shook her head. "It's fine, really. I didn't intend to sound condescending. If I'm to be a maid, I must be treated as an equal and not a superior, or else the whole point is moot."

The freckled boy looked at a loss, then glanced over at the horses still hitched the the carriage. "Uh, I'm sorry, our stable boy hasn't taken the horses out of their harnesses yet," he apologized. "Eren! Do your job!"

A boy around Mikasa's age sprinted over to the driveway and began to work. His hair was dark brown and messy, and he had the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen in her life. She wasn't going to lie to herself, she was instantly infatuated with the boy.

She watched him curiously as he gingerly unbuckled the halters around the horses and removed them, taking great care to make sure the animals were calm and comfortable as he did so.

He caught her staring at him, and gave her a lopsided grin. "Hey."

She wanted to reply, but Marco was already tugging her away by the sleeve. She could only wave him goodbye before being led into the manor.

She'd been there once, at the feast at which her engagement had been announced, though she didn't know her way around at the time. Marco led her through winding corridors and servants' passageways until her head spinned and she didn't know which way was which.

"How do you get around in here? It's like a labyrinth," she commented.

"You learn your way around eventually," Marco shrugged, then opened a simple wooden door. Immediately, the cool, stone passageway began to heat up, and Mikasa dreaded what sort of room she was about to enter.

It was the kitchens. There was a soft-looking brunette girl with her hair tied up into a ponytail casually tossing wood into the belly of a stove, which filled the room with an intense heat that Mikasa thought just might melt her skin.

The ponytailed girl absentmindedly picked up a steamed potato and took a bite out of it, not noticing the two people entering her domain.

Marco cleared his throat, and she finally noticed them enough to introduce herself.

"Sasha," she said through a full mouth, extending her hand out for Mikasa to shake as she did so. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss. I'm one of the cooks." Sasha swallowed and politely shook hands with Mikasa when she'd returned the gesture.

"Nice to meet you, too. Shouldn't you not be eating the dinner food?"

Sasha took another hefty bite of the potato. "Whose food? The masters'? They don't notice. They toss most of the food at the end of the meal anyway. Why let it go to waste?"

Mikasa was appalled, but not at the other girl's behavior. "They don't eat all that's presented to them?"

Sasha shook her head. "We servants get the leftovers in the end, so eating one potato beforehand won't hurt anyone."

Mikasa still looked rather shocked. Marco patted her on the shoulder.

"I understand. I was surprised, too. My family sold me when I was eight because of famine, so when I first learned of this, I almost died of shock right then and there."

She still said nothing, and her eyes remained as wide as saucers.

"Nothing goes to waste at the end of it all," Sasha quickly assured her after realizing Mikasa was practically in a trance. "There are many servants around here anyways, over twenty of them, and many are growing teens like you and I."

"Hah, ' _growing teens_.' Try telling that to someone of _my_ size, Sash."

Mikasa shook her head and glanced at a door that led outside. A short boy with a buzz cut walked in with a crate of vegetables hefted in his arms. He grunted as he put it on the ground next to the stove, where an iron cooking pot bubbled merrily away.

"I _still_ haven't hit my growth spurt! I'm starting to think I'm not getting one," the boy complained, then saw Mikasa standing there. "Oh, you must be the new girl." He spat into his palm and offered that hand out to her. "Connie Springer, one of the gardeners and an assistant cook."

Mikasa gave him a disgusted look and refused his gesture. "Nice to meet you, Connie," she politely said, however.

Connie didn't take it personally; he was used to this sort of reaction. He simply shrugged it off and wiped his hand off on his pants and began sauntering out the door again.

Sasha suddenly grabbed Mikasa's arm. "Connie, can you cover my shift? I'm going to give the new Miss a better tour than whatever Marco's been giving her."

"What?" Marco sputtered, but it was too late. Sasha was already toting her out the back door into the gardens.

The moment they were out of earshot of everyone, they stopped. Sasha lowered her voice and said, "This other maid named Christa told me that Connie told her that Eren saw you staring at him. Is it true? Do you _like_ him?" Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

Mikasa flushed slightly. "The stable boy? Maybe. What does it matter?"

Sasha backed away and laughed. "Don't bother with him, Miss. He's not interested in love. He's barely able to support himself on his own anyway; his mum died young and his dad vanished soon afterwards. There's been many a girl going after him, but he pays them no heed. Save yourself the heartache."

Mikasa felt a twinge of guilt at the brunette's words, since it reminded her that she had no right to have romantic feelings anymore. She had no choice in it at the end of the day.

"By the way, Miss, what's your name? What are you here for?"

She looked up, having lowered her sights out of habit. "Mikasa Ackerman. I'm he-"

"Oh, so you're the maid who's here to learn to be obedient! I wasn't expecting you for a little while, I thought you were a different maid; we've been expecting her for _days_ now," Sasha interrupted.

Mikasa looked at the cook incredulously, who shrugged in return.

"News spreads like wildfire among the servants," she explained, then began pulling at Mikasa again. "C'mon, I still need to show you around."

~***~

Adjusting to maid life took some time. While Mikasa was used to getting up at the crack of dawn, it took a long time to finally get through a day full of chores from dawn til dusk with hardly second to spare for eating or hygienics.

Her favorite days were when she got to go down to the stables to help Eren and his friend Armin muck out the stalls. It was stinky, filthy work, and at the end of every stall, her boots were covered in straw and dung, but she loved every second of it. Eren turned out to be a very good conversational partner. He told her about his life, his old dreams of becoming a knight, and cracked jokes.

One day, the two stayed late with the horses. They were done cleaning, but they leaned against the gate of the stalls and talked for hours, all the way through dinner until curfew. Mikasa knew she'd be punished later for neglecting her other chores, but she couldn't help it this time. The conversation was just so engrossing, and the time just… slipped by.

When they finally walked out together, it was dark. She looked up at the sky for the first time in what seemed like ages. The stars were there for her, just as she'd always known.

"You like stargazing?" Eren's voice cut into her thoughts, and she turned and faced him. He was looking up at the sky as well, so she looked up with him again. The silver dots smattered all along the midnight blue cover flickered, and Mikasa was easily able to pick out her favorite constellations.

"Yeah," she softly replied. Wispy grey clouds covered patches of the night, but she didn't mind. "Looking out into eternity… it makes me feel small, insignificant. But that's good sometimes. Makes my problems seem like they don't matter anymore."

Mikasa suddenly felt chilly, and she lowered her gaze, shivering. Eren gave her a concerned look. "Are you cold?"

She adamantly shook her head, but the goosebumps crawling up her bare arms gave her away.

"I'll be right back," he told her, and sprinted off towards the boy's dorms. Mikasa was confused, but stayed put. A few moments later, Eren returned, a maroon scarf bunched up in his hands.

"Here," he said, and began wrapping it messily around her neck and face. She felt her cheeks flush slightly. "It's warm, isn't it?" Eren asked her, and she gave him a small nod. "Great, you can keep it."

"Thank you," she whispered, and buried her face in the cloth.

"You're welcome," he simply replied, and the two stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes before departing.

Mikasa walked slowly back to the small room she shared with Sasha, her thoughts constantly drifting back to that brief moment of generosity.

"I'm back," she softly called as she opened the creaky door and collapsed onto her cot.

Sasha looked up from her bunk, and her face split into a grin. "Where'd you get that scarf?"

"Doesn't matter."

"C'mon, Mikasa, of course it does," Sasha said, a spark of mischief alighting her eyes.

Mikasa sighed, then flopped down so that she faced the ceiling. "Eren."

"Hmm? I didn't _hear_ you~" Sasha sang, crawling closer to her roommate's bunk. "Say it _agaiin_ , will you?"

The raven-haired girl rolled her eyes, and repeated what she'd said, louder this time. "Eren gave me the scarf."

"Hahaha, I _knew_ it! You're falling in _looove~_ "

"Sasha, he only gave me his scarf because I was cold. It's not like we shared some deep spiritual bond or something."

"Suuure," Sasha said, returning to her cot. "G'night, Mika." With that, she blew out their shared candle, and their room was plunged into darkness.

Mikasa rolled over. She hadn't removed Eren's scarf yet, and she decided to sleep with it tonight. _What harm could it possibly do?_ She wondered as she drifted off to Sasha's gentle snores.

~***~

The scarf! _A fate cried._ It's red!

Yes, sister, _another one replied._ The scarf is red. So what?

The red string is the one most deeply connected to the heart, silly. It's the one that tells the human how to love. Who wrote this scarf-giving scene? It's brilliant, _the third said, and her sisters merely shrugged in reply._

_The three went back to work, connecting destinies with threads into the most intricate of knots, creating snags and flaws with utmost precision. No mistakes were made in their weaving._

~***~

The red scarf became Mikasa's security blanket. She wore it nearly every day, and had she not taken such good care of it, she would have loved it to pieces. Eren didn't understand her absurd attachment to his old scarf, but never questioned it aloud.

Every so often, the pair would sneak out at night to stargaze. Mikasa loved those nights, but she also hated them. She was betrothed to the _heir_ of the estate she lived at, and yet she spent most of her free time with a _stable boy_ , one that probably only saw her as a friend for that matter. It was immoral of her to build a relationship, platonic or not, with a male servant of the household.

One summer evening, months after she'd moved to become a maid, she woke in the dead of night to meet with Eren down near the stables. She carefully escaped her cot, and was turning the doorknob when a voice scared her.

"Where are you going, Mikasa?" Sasha mumbled.

The raven-haired girl froze, terrified. She hoped with all her might that Sasha was just sleep talking.

"Mikasa, where are you going?"

"To the privy," she lied.

"You've been going to the privy a lot during the night lately."

Mikasa silently cursed. She should have known the brunette would notice sooner or later! "I, uh, have a small bladder."

"You don't piss much during the day."

Mikasa pressed her forehead against the doorframe, and she could feel her sins crawling down her back. Tears of guilt began to drop down her cheeks. "I'm going out stargazing with Eren."

She could hear Sasha shift her weight into a sitting position. "Oh, girl, what are you crying for? There's nothing wrong with this, is the-"

" _Yes, there is!_ " she cried, whipping around to face her roommate. She didn't care if the girls in the closets next to them heard her now. "I shouldn't _be_ out meeting him! I shouldn't _be_ infatuated with him still! I'm _engaged_ , for God's sake, and to the heir of the _estate we live on_ , no less!"

The tears streaked her face now, and fell to the floor with a barely audible pitter-patter. There was an ache in her chest and her throat felt swollen from speaking, even though in reality she was holding back. "I can't just _fall in love_ , Sasha. It's not ethical."

Mikasa saw Sasha's eyes widen in the pale light of the moon and turned away. She heard the brunette strike a match to light their shared candle, but she dared not look at the face reflected in the glow.

"Mikasa, I'm sure everyth-" she gently began, but was cut off a second time.

"Sasha, this isn't one of those _stupid_ fairy tales where all ends well and everyone lives ' _happily ever after_ ' or some shit like that." She expected more gentle words to follow her outburst, but instead, she received a stinging slap to the cheek. Unconsciously, she began to cry more, though she was speechless at the act.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Sasha demanded. When her roommate didn't respond, she slapped her again, and repeated herself, more insistent this time:

" _How long have you been feeling like this?_ "

A lump formed in Mikasa's throat and she choked on her tears. " _Months_ ," she wailed, her face contorting into one of grief and shame. Wet snot began to clog her nose, and as she sniffled, her throat became clogged and she had to cough. With the cough came a weak mewling of a noise, and it grew and grew until she was half bawling.

Sasha's expression softened. She gave Mikasa a few firm pats between the shoulder blades to help get rid of the phlegm caught in her lungs and made soothing shoosh sounds.

"That's right, just cry it out. I'm not judging you," she murmured, hoping to high heaven that the girls next door slept like logs.

Finally, Mikasa's sobs died down, though she was hyperventilating and her face showed clear signs that she'd been crying. Sasha took this as a good opportunity to speak.

"Not everything in life involves clear-cut, logical choices, sweetie. I can see where you're coming from. You're in love with Eren, but you're engaged to Jean. Follow your heart, or follow the path laid out before you."

"I'm not in love," Mikasa weakly protested. "It's just a crush."

"I heard from one of the scientists that if a crush lasts longer than four months, then you're in love. It's been like what, six months since you've known him, and you're still attracted to him? Congratulations, Mikasa, you're in love.

"This really is your choice to make right now, you know that. I can see you made it a long while ago. Now _go_ , be _free_. Return in the morning, of course, what would I do without you, but the night is when you should spread your wings. Don't limit yourself to this cage; go out and _fly_ ," Sasha insisted. There was something calming about her genuine tone of voice that allowed Mikasa to think clearly again.

She looked at her friend, and tears welled up in her eyes again. " _Thank you_ ," she whispered, and slipped out of the room.

~***~

The fresh, cool air felt good against Mikasa's face, and the nighttime breeze dried away her tears until there was only faint trails of salt left on her face that could be brushed away with the wipe of a hand. She wrapped the scarf Eren had given her around her neck as she walked, then she broke into a run, excitement emanating from everywhere inside of her. She eventually slowed down as she neared a large oak tree in the garden Sasha had taken her to on her first day.

"Hello," she quietly said as she plonked down on the grass next to Eren. She hoped he wouldn't notice that she'd been crying.

"Hullo Mikasa," he replied, and stared up at the sky. There had been falling stars as of late, and they'd hoped to see a few more tonight.

Mikasa's stomach churned uncomfortably and butterflies struggled to escape. "Eren," she began, a lump forming in her throat from nerves.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Eren didn't reply immediately, and Mikasa felt her face grow hot and she turned away. Her chest ached again, and she could have sworn her heart was being literally crushed. A silent tear made its way down her cheek again.

"Really?" he finally breathed in response. The disbelief was clear, and Mikasa's heart began to pound against her ribs. She opened her mouth to respond, but her vocal chords refused to work, so she was left with only a whisper.

"Yes."

They were silent again. Eren stared at the stars as Mikasa picked at the grass, and neither had the courage to say anything more for a time.

"Mikasa, look at me," Eren finally said, breaking the silence, and she obeyed. "You're very brave for telling me that."

Mikasa's stomach did flips, and her heart leapt to her throat. She knew it would come to this; he didn't love her back. Why would she have ever thought there was a smidgen of possibility that he did? More tears, and she hated herself for crying. She'd cried too much these last few hours over things that weren't worth it.

"I wish I were as brave as you. But you know what they say, 'actions speak louder than words,' " he said, and Mikasa didn't dare let her hopes up for what might happen next. Not that anything could have prepared her for it anyway.

He kissed her. It didn't last very long, but when it ended, Mikasa looked up at the constellations. She'd known them for years, but they looked ever so slightly different now. She wiped away her tears and smiled contentedly.

~***~

Mikasa hadn't meant to fall asleep under the stars, but when she woke up at dawn the next morning, she found herself covered in the morning dew, kept warm only by the boy next to her.

She gasped. Sasha was expecting her back in her bed, but it was too late for that now, all the servants were probably up at this hour. She shook Eren's shoulder in a panic, waking him up so she could say goodbye.

She ran as fast as she could to the kitchens, into the hidden passageway that led to the female servants' rooms. She burst through the door to Sasha and her room, panting.

"I'm back, Sasha."

Sasha rolled over in bed. "Mikasa sweetie, it's Sunday. We sleep until seven on Sundays."

The panic in her gut melted away, and Mikasa fell onto her cot in a heap from relief and fell asleep again.

~***~

The hazy summer days were long, but the months were short. Autumn soon came and went, and weeks turned into years.

Now sixteen, Mikasa had kept up her double life with Eren for a little over two years. The entire time, they'd danced around Mikasa's engagement to Jean, until they met up one night in the spring.

"Lady Kirstein told me to start sewing my wedding dress," she softly said. "The wedding is in four months, you know. Dresses take a long time to make, especially ones as elaborate as the ones for weddings."

Eren didn't say anything, and they sat there in silence as her words weighed on their minds.

"What if you could run away from it all?" he asked her after a spell. "Would you do it?"

Mikasa pondered his question for a few minutes. Gradually, over the course of these last few years, she'd come to accept what was already written out for her by her parents. The thought of running away had never seriously crossed her mind, and if it had, she pushed it away before the idea actually took hold. "I don't know," she slowly replied. "It depends on where, I suppose."

The brunet laughed lightly, as though she'd just cracked a joke. "Anywhere, Mikasa, but I'd come with you, of course."

Mikasa felt her jaw go slack for a moment and her cheeks grew warm, but she soon composed herself again. "Just you and me?"

"Just you and me. Anywhere you wanted."

She felt her breath hitch in her throat. Doors were opened, and possibilities flooded her mind. "I'd do it."

Eren got up and extended a hand out to her. "How does now sound?"

Mikasa began to cry, but they weren't tears of regret, or anger, or even sadness. They were the type she hadn't cried in years. Happiness.

She took his offer and helped herself up.

"That sounds _perfect_."

~***~

_Epilogue._

_The sharp cry of a newborn child pierced the air. The fates were already at work, giving it heartstrings and a story to go with them. One of them peered into the hearts of its parents._

Look, _she said._ It's the girl with the red scarf. She's had a child.

_Her sisters looked proudly at the mess of threads radiating from the mother's chest. They were entwined especially thickly with those of the child's father, resembling a sewing kit whose bobbins had unravelled themselves in a heap in the center._

_A different fate carefully tied the first fine, gossamer thread around the child's heart and connected it to its mother's. The first bond of life._

_The father looked down on his offspring and cooed. Another string was tied around their hearts._

_The fates took a moment of silence; a tradition they'd held whenever someone they'd specially cared for had a momentous occasion in their life. Then slowly, they began to spin the story of its life._

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, that turned out a lot longer than I'd expected. Mikasa cried a lot more than is probably in-character for her. o-o. I really like the scene where she confesses her love, though. It's so blunt, yet she's also being so vulnerable in that scene. It just feels really... I don't know how to word it :P.
> 
> Anyway, if you liked it, drop a favorite (or don't; I'm not your mom)! Dunno if it's going to have a sequel, but it definitely has the potential to become a fully-fleshed out, but rather short, multi-chapter. I don't know if I'll ever write that, either, though. Leave your thoughts in the reviews below (if that's what you're into), and have a greaaat day~~  
> *as a note from the future, keep in mind that a sequel is highly unlikely, but not impossible.


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